


Hair Care and Other Personal Boundaries

by cureelliott



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cureelliott/pseuds/cureelliott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuma just wants to fondle Ryouga's follicles a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair Care and Other Personal Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Zexal fic! I hope it's fun and cute and I hope Willis likes it because I wrote this for her birthday! I love you, my person on inseparable oneness!

Kamishiro Ryoga considered himself a pretty reasonable person. 

Sure, he could be short tempered at times, but who wasn’t entitled to a bad mood every now and again? Besides, not everyone had a fussy ice queen for a sister or a bumbling, naive jackass for a. Person. An exclusive person. With whom Ryoga did intimate things with. But not that intimate! Having sex with Yuma would be like... having sex with a bumbling, naive jackass. Not that Ryoga wanted to have sex with Yuma or had even thought about it! Not even once! 

The point being, Ryoga was a reasonable person with reasonable boundaries and expectations and it was perfectly reasonable of him to protest when those boundaries and expectations were violated.

Especially when it involved his hair. 

“No.” Ryoga attempted to pour the volumes of disapproval he felt into the single syllable but Yuma remained oblivious and continued to sulk at him childishly. It wasn’t appealing. Not even a little bit. 

“But Shaa _aaa_ ark...” As Yuma drew out the vowel his eyes got impossibly larger and if Ryoga hadn’t looked away at the last second he was sure he would see that they were brimming with tears. 

“Absolutely not.” Ryoga glared at a rare blank patch of Yuma’s wall, a small gap between duel contest posters. The bed dipped a little in the space closest the Ryoga’s thigh and their naked knees bumped together. Yuma had lent Ryoga a pair of loose shorts and a baggy t-shirt to sleep in. 

Yuma had somehow convinced Ryoga, Ryoga’s parents and Yuma’s older sister that it would be a good idea for them to have a sleepover the night before a dueling contest outside of the town. Shark had planned to drive them there on his bike in the morning and Yuma insisted it was more practical for them to be in the same place in the morning. At the time, the idea had kind of made sense, but now Ryoga was alone with Yuma, post evening bath, and Yuma was wielding a hair brush like it was a well placed trap card. 

“If you don’t brush it, you’ll wake up with knots in it.” Yuma was trying to use reason on him-- that was how badly he wanted to do this thing. 

“I don’t have a problem with that.” Out of the corner of Ryoga’s eye, he could see Yuma craning his neck in an attempt to put his puppy dog expression in Ryoga’s field of vision. Manipulative little twerp. 

“But it’ll hurt. And your hair already needs such a huge amount of maintenance...” 

“It needs no such thing!” Ryoga half shouted, whipping his head around to glare at Yuma. Never one to pass up an opportunity, especially not when the opportunity was to invade Ryoga’s personal space, Yuma lept onto to him as soon as his posture opened up. There was a struggle, an aborted yelp as they went crashing to the floor and Ryoga carefully avoided getting stabbed in the eye with the hairbrush.

They lay on the floor together in a tangled pile of gangly limbs, panting a little. Ryoga wondered exactly what he had done to end up here, willingly no doubt, with this imbecile, when Yuma interrupted his train of thought with a burst of lyrical laughter. 

“Bwahaha! Shark! Y-your face! Your ha... hahaha! Your hair!” Apparently Ryoga’s dishevelment overwhelmed Yuma, because he collapsed heavily on Ryoga’s chest, mirth forming in the corners of his eyes. 

Ryoga glanced around but there was no conviently placed mirror, and for some reason he couldn’t quite bring himself to get up just yet. Instead he glared seriously down at Yuma and growled, “What are you talking about? Whatever it is can’t be this funny... stop laughing.” 

A full two minutes later, Yuma calmed down enough to breathe and rest his face comfortably on Ryoga’s breast bone, still sighing and giggling. 

When Ryoga made a loud ‘hrmph’, Yuma sat up and smiled down at him. 

“Come on, let me brush it. I just want to do something nice for you.” 

Yuma’s sincerity caught Ryoga off-guard and he didn’t have time to respond before Yuma was standing and riffling through his dresser drawers. 

Ryoga watched, stunned, as Yuma slipped a hard plastic, toothed hair band over his head to push back pink and black hair. When Ryoga thought about it, this was the first time he’d seen Yuma with his hair down at all. It was surprisingly long. His pink bangs falling down below his chin and the rest of his hair, jet black, falling down to the tops of his shoulders. It was longer than Ryoga’s. And it looked softer too. 

With his bangs away from his face, Yuma drew the rest of his hair up into a messy but tight ponytail. Again, he brandished the hairbrush, and turned towards Ryoga with a particular shine in his eyes. 

“Sit up, turn around.” And Ryoga complied silently. 

Yuma knelt behind him and when Ryoga felt his hovering presence he righted his shoulders defensively. But Yuma’s hands were surprisingly gentle on the crown of his head, gently parting his hair before running the brush through. Ryoga had expected Yuma's hands to be rough or for him to make incessant, nattering chatter while manhandling him, but Yuma's hands felt soft and he was so focused on caring for Ryoga's hair that Ryoga didn't dare breathe a word, for fear of interrupting him. 

It was actually kind of... soothing. 

Ryoga’s eyelids were hanging half closed when he finally heard Yuma’s voice again, much closer to his ear that he could have anticipated, but speaking in that typical cheery tone. 

“I love touching other people’s hair. Obaachan always lets me to hers for her. Kotori lets me do hers sometimes, too.” 

Ryoga didn’t know what to say so he just nodded dumbly.

“Your hair is really soft. I thought it would be... pointy...” Yuma laughed at his own comment, running the brush down from the top of Ryoga’s head to the nape of his neck. 

Ryoga continued to sit still and silent, trying desperately to come up with something to say. 

“Obaachan told me when I was little that when you love someone, you should do something nice for them. To show them you care. I haven’t seen anyone ever touch your hair before.” 

Ryoga scowled at the wall in front of him, but it wasn’t because he was unhappy. Suddenly, he sat up on his knees and turned around, snatching the brush out of Yuma’s hand. 

Yuma gaped at him and Ryoga continued to make a stern face at him. 

“Turn around.” He grunted, shoving at Yuma’s shoulder a little, and Yuma obliged. Gingly, Ryoga took the hair band out of his hair and undid the pony tail. 

Slowly, Ryoga brushed out the kinks and tangles in Yuma’s hair and let the still-wet locks fan out on his shoulders. 

“I. I’ve never seen anyone touch your hair either.” 

Even though Yuma was facing away from and there wasn’t a mirror, Ryoga was sure he was smiling.


End file.
